*I don't own The Outsiders.

(DPOV)

"You're such a fucking piece of shit! I don't know why I've been your friend for this long!" Shawn yelled at me.

I blink at her, slightly hurt, before hot white anger took its place. "Maybe because I'm the one who has kept your ass around this long! Without me you would've been dead years ago!" I screamed back.

She snorted at me. "Please," she scoffed, "that goes both ways." She narrowed her green eyes at me, her arms crossed against her chest. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you are not welcomed here!" She glared at me hatefully.

So what, I went to the cooler. Everyone around here and their brother has been to the cooler. Maybe not at ten years old, but who gives a fuck? Oh yeah, Shawn gives a shit, of course, and now she's giving me shit about it.

What was I supposed to do? That crazy fucker killed Charlie in front of my face, I ran, I was caught with samples. I was scared for Christ's sake, and not in the right mind to avoid the streets I knew those damn officers were cruising. I panicked.

"If you'd let me explain what happened-"

Bitch cut me off. "No, I don't want to freaking hear it anymore, Dallas! I'm done with this shit, I already told you that. I knew this wouldn't end well, I knew you'd get caught eventually, and I don't like it. I hate it! And, I refuse to sit around and watch you go in and out of the cooler every other month. I refuse to watch you get caught up in this shitty place, dealing drugs, or delivering, or whatever you want to call it!"

"I'm not getting caught up in it. I've never even done anything, I just needed the money!" I growled.

Why the fuck can't she understand what I'm saying?

I'm speaking English, ain't I?

She glared at me stubbornly, "Get out." She said evenly.

"Excuse me?" I mumbled, the fight leaving my body. She was dead serious. I could tell by the look on her face that she really wanted me to leave. She didn't want to see me at all.

But…she's supposed to always be there.

I glared, "I see how it is." I felt some satisfaction when she flinched at the venom in my voice.

Her jaw clenched, "You're different. You're not who you were before."

"I just spent months in jail, what do you think? I've been dealing with a bunch of assholes who all think they're hot shots, and want nothing more than to pound you into nothing whenever the chance is presented."

Shawn glanced at me, "Sorry, but it's your own damn fault, now get out of my house." With that, she turned and made her way out of the kitchen. I stood there and listened to her footsteps upstairs, knowing full well that her bedroom was right above me.

A decade long friendship and she just turned her back on it like that?

I thought about what I had to go home to. A drunk, volatile stepfather and a Mother who eats pills like candy.

I really don't have fucking anything do I?

I left and didn't look back. I was going far away….maybe, somewhere down south?

(Shawn's POV)

I blinked in the harsh sunlight. Stupid hangover, I usually can handle my liquor better, I'll blame it on the emotional outburst I had last night.

Dallas seemed to actually care about my parents dying. He wasn't that upset about it, but I could tell it bothered him on some level. For a moment, he was far away, or maybe that was my imagination. I wonder if he even remembers my parents that well.

I took a soggy pack of cigarettes from the banister. I glanced around and didn't see anyone around to claim them. I opened the pack and found they weren't too damp. "I hope I can get one of these lit."

In vain, I tried to light a couple, only getting more aggravated each attempt.

"You know those are done, and we also know those aren't yours, considering you ain't much of a smoker." I glanced at Dally, before throwing the pack to the ground. He sat beside me, and to my displeasure, continued talking, "Are you really stubborn enough to try and light wet cancer sticks? Or, just that stupid?" He smirked. "Hangover, eh?" He continued, enjoying my pain.

I scowled and looked away, even though that made me looks right into the fucking sunlight.

I heard the click of a lighter, "Here," he grumbled, handing me one of his Kools.

"I hate Kools," I stated, taking it anyway.

He rolled his eyes, "Then give it back."

"Don't think I will."

"Smoking on an empty stomach after drinking all night probably isn't a good idea," Dal grinned.

"Do you ever know when to shut the fuck up?" This just seemed to encourage him to keep annoying me.

"You know, I never thought the reason you were here would have anything to do with your parents," he mused.

I sighed, "Do you have a specific question? I really don't fucking feel like talking about them."

"Not really." He mumbled, almost thoughtfully. Jesus Christ, a thoughtful Dallas? That's pretty fucking scary.

I glanced at him sharply, "I don't know what you're thinking, but be careful, you don't want to hurt yourself."

"I was thinking about how your parents were kind of like the Curtis' parents were." He shrugged.

"Yeah?"

"They died a while ago, in a car accident."

I nodded, "I seen the pictures that one day, and the newspaper article on one of the frames." I grounded the cigarette, glancing tiredly at the waves of heat coming off the pavement.

"Do you ever think that one day you're going to wake up and realize you've wasted your entire life? I look at your parents and the Curtis', then I think about kids like Charlie, and I'll start thinking about a couple decades from now. Sometimes, I want things to stay the way they are, because it's just fucking easier that way. Then, other times, I wish I could've just gone ahead and died along with Charlie because that would've been even easier. But, sometimes, even though your parents and the Curtis' died pretty young, and didn't have a lot of money, they died with a real family, so at least they died with that accomplishment…I sound like a stupid pussy, forget I said any of this," he grumbled towards the end.

I was silent for a moment, "It ain't to late. You could still get a degree, be a cop," I grinned.

"Shut the fuck up. I ain't going back to that hell they call high school, and I don't want to be a goddamn cop!"

I laughed, "I seriously doubt you could become a cop with your record anyway, they'd think you were trying to corrupt the system from the inside out." Then seriously I told him, "We got our whole lives, Dal. They may not be what we wanted so far, but we still got a shitload of time to think about shit we want to do."

"Do we? Look at your parents, the Curtis', fucking Charlie, why don't you tell them that? They sure had a long time," he glared at the pavement.

I pursed my lips, hating when he started to get all difficult instead of just fucking listening to what they hell I'm saying. "Whatever, Dallas, and to answer your question, yeah I think about thirty years from now, when I look back and realize I'm completely pathetic, but I don't want to deal with this shit now. I don't like looking at kids like Ponyboy Curtis, who despite being an orphan, has a group of people who'd do anything for him, and the grades, intelligence, and the balls to dream big enough, that it will get him anywhere in the world. I hate the fact that I'll probably never see half of this state; much less see the entire world like I want to. I hate that I'll probably never have a job doing something I actually like, but that's just the way it fucking is."

"Yeah, but then you realize you ain't cut out for what you want," Dallas said.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you see yourself going to college like Ponyboy? Do you see yourself thriving in some university library like you know he will?" He asked.

"No."

The realization hit me hard, and left me felling worse than before.

"Exactly. Despite hating every Soc out there, you know we all wouldn't mind getting our hands on some of that money. Not to worry about meeting rent, bills, paying for school, whatever the fuck you need. I like being a Greaser, I prefer it to being one of those arrogant assholes, but everyone on this side still wants the money that them Socs have, and even if they won't admit it, they know it's true."

"Middle class has it made. They work for what they have, so they understand working hard for a dollar, but at the end of the month, they know they're going to have enough money for groceries and shit," I huffed. "I'd be a lying son of a bitch, if I didn't say I wanted some of that stability. Even though my parents gave me a lot, and tried to give me everything they could, they never gave me that," I confessed.

He shrugged, "You could've had it a lot worse."

I snorted, "I know that, but that doesn't mean I'm not left wanting more, just like everyone else. That's just the way human beings are. You hear all of those Preachers telling you to be grateful, and not to be selfish, but fuck that, who isn't at one point, who doesn't ever want more?" I scowled. "It's just that some people are left wanting more than others."

"Amen to that," he smirked causing me to laugh.

Some Dallas/Shawn bonding towards the end. It may seem OOC, but I did that on purpose, it helps you see how deep their friendship really goes. So, this story is winding to an end, and I'm already working on another one. I started the first chapter. I'm so sorry you all had to wait this long for this chapter, I don't ever do this, but this week I had three regents, and I only have one more next Tuesday and I'm done for good. Well, that is until I start AP homework I have to do over summer. :P

Please review!